Capitol Child
by MagicDistrict
Summary: Artella Bellwood is a girl in the Capitol, watching the 74th Annual Hunger Games - and she isn't looking forward to it either. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

It's that time of year again.

The Hunger Games have come around. It's the 74th annual Hunger Games this year, and I'm not looking forward to it at all.

Of course, my dread is nothing to that of the people in the districts. This week, we'll find out who the unlucky ones are. The ones who have a 23/24 chance of dying this year.

I live in the Capitol, so I'm spared. As long as I pretend to love it, pretend to be brainwashed by President Snow and the system of Panem, then I'm safe. I've heard what Snow does to rebels. Every so often, a plot for an uprising is revealed. You see the accused led away in chains. They walk through the streets, stripped of their colours. They get led into the president's mansion. I don't know what happens there, but nobody has ever come out.

I wake up and the announcement for the Games is on the television. 'Oh, Caesar Flickerman does make me laugh,' says my mother as she bustled into the kitchen. She is in her pink and white striped dress with pink and black tiger print leggings and her floral slippers.

In the Capitol, we have to wear an outfit themed on our family colours – that is, until we reach the age of 16. The Bellwood family colour is blue, so me and my brother always have to wear blue. On the last day of the year, all the sixteen year olds in the area go to a huge celebration and they can wear whatever they wish. I am 13, so I have another three years to wait. My brother was 15 last month, so he is only next year.

After breakfast, my mother prepares me. I like the makeup I wear, actually. I usually have light blue eyeshadow (all across my eye sockets, of course) and blue jewels decorated there, with a few navy blue streaks. The only thing I don't like about it is the way my face is dyed completely paper white, but with a slight blue tinge. My hair is dyed every shade of blue there is, with all different highlights. I wear a long blue top over baby blue leggings that are ripped artfully and high heels.

'All ready now, Artella,' my mother says. 'Your brother is nearly ready, too.'

Within the Capitol, we have different areas. Ours is called Thathyst (we're in the south western area), but there is also Lorcothal (a more northern area), Jemthorn (the largest, which stretches from the north eastern parts right to the south eastern) and one in the centre, nearest to President Snow's house, Lupanity. All the government officials, important people and Gamemakers live in Lupanity, right near to President Snow. He has a sort of circle of very, very rich estates and that's where all his favourites live. The government officials he doesn't like, can't be bothered to sentence to death or the new ones stay to take care of Thathyst, Lorcothal or Jemthorn.

My brother is ready. His hair is messy, but of course it is dyed blue, and he is in bright blue skinny jeans, a navy blue t-shirt and blue boots. His face is coloured paler, too.

'You ready, Artella?' he says.

'Yes,' I tell him. He takes his school bag (which is blue) and I take mine (which is also blue). In fact, nearly everything I own is blue. That's why it's kind of refreshing to get out of the house and into school.

I have a group of friends. Alnathia's family colours are orange; she wears similar things to me, but coloured orange. Westia's family colours are pink. Here, the boys just don't protest. They try to make it work. I think Westia's brother does pull it off. He's two years above us in school. Again, he dresses similar to my brother, just in pink. Vilenna's colour is purple. She always manages to sport some highly fashionable look in purple. It mystifies everyone. Whatever she wears, she looks very good in it. It's different to what everyone else wears, but it somehow works and she looks very beautiful. Well, her outfit does. Nobody can tell whether anyone looks beautiful – we are all so heavily covered in makeup and colours that our natural selves are lost.

We arrive at the gates. It's funny; everyone in the Capitol dresses, eats, celebrates and lives very extravagantly, but the buildings are very grey and dull. The gates are black iron and the school is brown brick. Around this area of Thathyst, most of the houses are terraced, and they're all grey and brown. The people are like a splash of colour on the otherwise deadly boring town. My uncle says that this is probably what the districts look like – except with the people all grey and dull, too.

All the pupils have to wait outside before they let us in. There are three classes in each year, so there is a large crowd. As I am in my second year at this school, I am in class 2J. "J" stands for some Capitol person who died in the Dark Days, nobody can remember his name.

Our year dominates the right corner of the wall. That's just where we go. The first years keep to the front of the gates, third years have the left corner, fourth years a good few metres from the gates (that's my brother and Westia's brother's year), and the fifth, sixth and seventh years stand very far away. It's one of those rules that aren't written down, but that's just where you stand to chat when you arrive.

As usual, the outside of the school looks like a canvas that has had every shade of every colour randomly tipped on to it. Sometimes it gives me a headache, sometimes it just looks beautiful. I join Alnathia, Westia, Vilenna and the others.

'Artella! How are you?' says Westia. She's in a bright pink top and a hot pink skirt with baby pink stripes with a bow at the waist. She wears high heels, too, and she can hardly walk in them. Her hair is curled into ringlets and dyed baby pink.

'Fine, I'm good,' I say. 'What about you?'

'I'm a bit tired, to be honest. I didn't get hardly any sleep,' she says, biting her lip.

'She's stressing over the music situation,' says Alnathia, rolling her eyes. I notice that even her eyelashes are dyed orange today.

'Westia, you'll do very well,' I say. Westia is doing a piano and singing performance for the class, but she's throwing in some dancing at the end. 'You're a fantastic singer, pianist, and dancer. Miss Lartham will love it.'

'What if something goes wrong? My mother would kill me,' says Westia.

'I'm sure she won't. And she doesn't even have to know,' I say. Westia gives me a horrified look. I roll my eyes. She is the sort of person who disapproves of any rule-breaking, skulduggery, or general fun.

Just then, a boy in our class (his colour is red – his hair is dyed dark red, and he dresses in bright red skinny jeans, the same colour t-shirt and dark red boots, but with no makeup, which is probably good as I don't think it would quite work with red on boys) called Dauleth comes round with some sweets.

'Artella? Alnathia? Westia? Want any?' he asks.

'Yes please,' I say, but the other two refuse. It's irritating when they do that. He offered, its fine to say yes.

Vilenna arrives, dressed in a beautiful silky dress with purple sequins. She is covered in eyeshadow, purple blusher, purple eyeliner, again has her eyelashes dyed purple, her long hair dyed dark purple, but she also has random streaks of purple on her face. It looks weird, but annoyingly, it works.

Ten minutes later, the gates creak open. Everybody lines up in order. Because my last name is Bellwood, I'm quite near the front of my class. We are led into our separate classrooms, where we are registered. My teacher is using the ability to wear whatever colour she likes to her liberty and she always does. She is in every colour of the rainbow today, in order. Literally. Her hair is red, her makeup is orange, and so on until her shoes are violet.

I walk over to my history class with Alnathia. There is a large picture of President Snow hanging over the school gates, bearing a motto in some strange language I don't know. Something about that man scares me a lot. On the outside, he looks nice. When I look at the picture, it shows an old man in a suit with a slight smile on his face. But there is something dangerous about him, and I know it.

English is boring. We are paired up by the teacher and I am with a yellow girl named Begana. She's nice enough, to be honest.

Of course in our school we have the popularity system. The popular ones in our class are Delefria Trenamisty and her gang, and the boys have Urvan Bythorne and his gang. Still, there are more unpopular than popular, so I suppose I'm in the majority.

At lunchtime we sit outside in the courtyard on a bench under a willow tree. Dauleth and a few friends sit not too far from us. Begana joins us for the last half hour before we go back to geography.

We basically study a map of Panem and the political relationships between the areas. There isn't too much enmity, though. We're allowed to visit the others whenever we like, as in – the borders aren't guarded with anything apart from 'WELCOME TO THATHYST' signs or whatever.

I meet my brother after school and we walk home in silence. We don't have much to say to each other. We just think over what happened that day for us.

When we arrive home, my mother has hot chocolate ready for us. She is flicking through a recipe book to find something to cook for dinner.

'Tomorrow I'll cook something better, your uncle is coming,' she says.

I grin. I love my uncle. He's a very wise man. He always has opinions on things, and they're nearly always the best informed you can get.

I run up the stairs, but as I go, I hear that the District 1 tributes have been chosen. I stop and sit down. I feel sick.

Today, two young people were as good as sentenced to death.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

I take a while to get to sleep. It really hit me, when the two tributes were reaped, that two families will lose a child this year. I can't believe my luck to be in the Capitol. A Capitol child.

My brother says I am too caring. That's why I'm so troubled.

'They'll spend some nice time in Lupanity. They'll see the most beautiful, most rich areas of the country,' he shrugs.

'But then they'll die!' I protest. 'They're only here to be thrown in an arena and either killed or tortured for life!'

'Artella, this is why I don't watch the Games,' he says. 'I don't want to get attached like that.'

Then he gets up to go and get ready properly.

In school, everybody discusses the tributes in hushed tones. Delefria and her friends are very excited. They're the sort of brainwashed idiots who'll swallow all the rubbish about how great Snow and his Games are.

Westia breaks into tears. Alnathia puts an arm around her but sits in silence. She can't tell Westia everything will be ok, because it won't. For months, all we're going to see are these people's faces.

'I hate this time of year,' I say. 'We're literally bombarded with rubbish. We don't want these Games to happen,' I say. I am boiling with hatred for our president, but I can't speak to loudly. I need to be at home where nobody can hear for that kind of thing. 'And everyone in the Districts probably thinks we love it.'

'That's what we have to pretend,' says Vilenna quietly.

'At least we're convincing,' says Alnathia.

I walk home with my brother, who is also in silence. Tonight or tomorrow night, we'll find out who the District 2 and 3 tributes are, followed by 4 and 5, 6 and 7, 8 and 9, 10 and 11, and finally 12. I can never bring myself to watch the District 12 reaping. Those tributes always die. Apparently it's the poorest district, which would be why the tributes look like they've never had a square meal in their lives.

My mother has hot chocolate again, but this time with marshmallows and a sprinkling of chocolate shavings. I'm grateful – I need hot chocolate to calm me down.

My uncle arrives about an hour later, at 5pm. He looks worried and unhappy as he takes off his scarf and hangs it over the staircase.

'Artella! Garnem!' says my uncle cheerfully, welcoming me and my brother into a warm embrace. 'How's school going?' It's obvious he asked this to get away from discussing the tributes.

'I'm getting on with exam revision,' says my brother.

'Tough work?'

'Very,' says my brother, and they chat about what my brother wants to do when he grows up. My brother doesn't want to work for Snow, and I don't think my family would want him to either. He thought about being a doctor but decided he wasn't good enough in science. Apparently he's still thinking about becoming a teacher, but he told me he'd rather do something creative. Maybe he could start a business.

We sit down in the living room and my uncle takes a hot chocolate. He is in blue and orange and has tattoos all over his head and arms.

'It's a shame about the tributes, isn't it,' says my uncle to my mother. He's not asking it as a question.

'Marvel and Glimmer are the poor kids' names,' replies my mother.

'Bless them,' he says. 'Did they volunteer?'

'Not this year,' she says. 'They were picked themselves.'

'It's kind of stupid, isn't it, to volunteer? I can understand if they were volunteering for a loved one but that's like committing suicide,' says my brother.

My uncle shakes his head. 'I can't understand it either, Garnem,' he says.

We sit in silence for a while before my father arrives home. 'You're early,' says my mother.

'Got let off early. Probably has something to do with the reaping. It's 2 and 3 being picked tonight,' he says, shaking my uncle's hand. They're brothers in law. 'Terrible thing. The boss hates the Games, but it looks good on your record, you know?'

We all nod.

'The reaping will be on soon,' says my mother, getting up to switch the television on. 'You know what's beyond me, is how Caesar Flickerman makes the whole thing light hearted.'

'He doesn't,' my uncle says darkly. 'Tell me, Baraline. Are you convinced it's all a bit of fun and games? We all know it's a way of killing children. God knows why Snow wants to do it. He's an evil man. But the point is, everybody can tell it's just a way of dressing up murder, so to help with the image, they send along millions of stupid Capitol citizens they managed to brainwash into believing it's a bit of fun to watch and cheer and laugh. It all helps brainwash a few more, see.'

Everybody is silent. I think about what my uncle just said. _It's a way of dressing up murder_. I suppose it is. The chariots and the clothes. And it seems like Snow succeeded in brainwashing the Career tributes, too, if they'll go up for it voluntarily.

The District 2 tributes are called Cato and Clove. Cato looks terrifying. I wouldn't want to be up against him. Clove has a small figure but there's something deadly about the look in her eyes. To be honest, I wouldn't like to be against either of them.

I don't catch the names of the District 3 tributes, but the boy looks very young. I go into the kitchen to have another hot chocolate and sit down at the table.

After about fifteen minutes, my uncle joins me. 'Getting down?'

'It creeps me out,' I say darkly. '23 three of those children are going to die. They have basically no chance! It's evil! I want to escape! I could make it, you know. Take off, live somewhere else.'

'You wouldn't make it five miles before you were tortured into insanity, Artella,' sighs my uncle. 'It's these children that should be trying to escape.'

We sit in silence.

'Panem is evil,' I say.

'I know,' he says.

We sigh and sit there. Thinking of all the families and what they'll be going through now. It must be like a funeral, the atmosphere in their houses tonight.

My uncle stays overnight. In school, the feeling is awful. People look around at everyone and there is a sense of desperate gratefulness that we don't have to take part in the Games. Vilenna is in dark purple with something that could be a veil over her face.

District 4 and 5 are disturbing reapings. It's true that nobody volunteers in either district. The most memorable tribute was the District 5 girl. She was quiet and had an almost eerie look about her. Her face also looked a bit like a fox, although her actual name was Primrose.

School is hell the following day, too. However, there is a live stream from the Capitol.

'Children of the Capitol,' says the booming voice of some Gamemaker. 'As you all know, the 74th Annual Hunger Games are looming upon us. 24 tributes will be joining us for a few weeks, as it was decreed, that each of the 12 districts of Panem shall offer in tribute one young man and woman, to be trained in the art of survival and fight to the death.'

There is a silence.

'We salute those tributes and their courage. We salute President Snow for providing us with a secure nation. Salute the tributes!'

Everybody salutes, and murmurs 'To the tributes' half-heartedly. I think everyone is too miserable to do anything more.

'Salute President Snow!'

There is a reluctant silence, but then the children of the nation all salute and murmur, 'To President Snow' in unison.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

District 6 and 7 are reaped but I don't watch. I sit in my room and I watch the rest of the street windows. It's all silence down our road. A few flags and banners hang out of windows but that's only to put on a good show. However, I can almost hear the shouts of excitement and glee in Lupanity. They probably have parties around this time of year and everything.

I don't watch 8 or 9 either. 10 and 11 are the following day and I am told that a twelve year old was picked in District 11. Her name is Rue. I break into tears and my mother takes me into a hug. 'Twelve years old and she'll be dead in a month,' says my uncle.

I watch District 12 because it's the last one. Finally. The District 12 tributes never win. Only one ever has, ever. Haymitch Abernathy was his name.

Effie Trinket does the reaping there. Haymitch Abernathy stumbles onstage, heavily drunk. Oh dear. So that is the fate of the surviving tributes. This means that either way the tributes are sentenced to death. I can't imagine what it's like around reaping time in the districts.

'Ladies first,' says Effie, as though it's Christmas. Her hand skims through the bowl, tantalising the people of District 12 ...

'Primrose Everdeen!'

There is silence on the television screen and we all hold our breath when a tiny, skinny girl who looks like she's never been fed a square meal in her life steps forward. My mother gasps.

'Another twelve year old?'

Then there's screaming from the audience and the shocked district people turn to look. 'PRIM!' screams the voice desperately. The camera turns and it's a taller, dark-haired girl, much older. 'NO! PRIM!'

Peacekeepers hold her back and we can hear them muttering to get back or risk a terrible punishment for embarrassing the district like this.

'I VOLUNTEER!'

We all gasp and we can tell that the whole Capitol is doing the same. A volunteer from District 12?

'I volunteer as tribute,' says the dark haired one, struggling to keep her voice calm.

'Well, well, a volunteer!' says Effie. 'Come up!'

She asks the girl who she is. Her name is Katniss Everdeen. It must be the girl Primrose's sister.

'What a brave girl,' says my mother.

'That's bravery,' says my uncle. 'That girl is bravery.'

'12 might have a winner,' says my father.

The boy who is picked is called Peeta. There are no volunteers for him. He is 16, just like Katniss.

The reaping turns off and flicks over to President Snow. 'We now have our tributes,' he says. 'They will be coming to the Capitol for training before the Games begin. All of you will be looking forward to this and it is a time of national pride in Panem!'

He carries on talking but none of us listen. A volunteer from 12 is very brave. That, or she just doesn't know what she's got herself into. Maybe both.

After Snow's speech, we turn off the television.

My uncle raises his glass. 'To Katniss Everdeen.'

In unison, we say, 'To Katniss Everdeen.'

The volunteer tribute is sensational news in school. Vilenna, Alnathia, Westia and I talk about it over lunch for several days, as do the rest of the school. It's funny, the way the Hunger Games affects us even here.

A week passes and soon "top secret footage" of the tributes' training is "accidentally leaked". Of course we all know the Gamemakers sent it out to get extra publicity, even though they didn't really need it – everyone knows about the Games. We see the vicious Career tributes with their intimidating knife throwing, stabbing and general violence, and a few clips of Katniss because everyone likes her. She's very good with a bow and arrow. Apart from that, nobody else is really shown.

In the days leading up to the Games, nothing else goes on at all in the Capitol. It's only advertisements for bars and restaurants where you can watch it and big screens in town centres, merchandise (which is disgusting) and profiles on each tribute, in case anybody wants to sponsor them. I always want to, but the tributes get terrible injuries and illnesses that we'd never be able to afford anything they need.

To keep myself busy, I spend most of my time in the local park with Alnathia. She's a good person to talk to. Vilenna comes sometimes but is always mysteriously busy, and Westia is doing schoolwork or whatever it is that Westia does.

'I hope Katniss wins,' says Alnathia as we sit, feebly swinging on the swings. 'For her sister.'

'For her district.'

'To slap Snow straight in the face,' says Alnathia, and I burst out laughing, stopping the swing. We both sit there laughing for minutes, even though it's stupid, because there's been so little to laugh about in so long.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

When I get home, only my brother is sat in the living room, flicking through television channels. He sees me coming through the door. 'Hey, Artella,' he says. 'Nothing on TV,' he says, gesturing at the screen, which is on a shopping channel.

'Not watching the news?'

'It's only the Games on the news, I know what I want to know about the Games,' he shrugs. 'You should go and watch this year.'

In the Capitol, there are seating arenas set up for people in each area of the city to watch the Games on cinema screens, but outdoors. You book your seats and you can leave them and go back any time during the Games. Diehards sleep out there. I've never gone, because I've always been too young to go without a parent and neither of my parents is willing to take me. But maybe my brother's right, I should go this year, with Westia, Alnathia and Vilenna. We could just take the time to sit at the back and gossip, there's no need to actually watch.

Then I am sickened. It's alright for me to say. What about Katniss Everdeen and the baker boy from 12? And the 11 year old from 11? And the girl who looked like a fox from 5? They would hate to think that Capitol girls are taking this time to sit and chat while they fight for their lives. I almost throw up!

'Don't tell me you're backing out because _you don't like the Games,_' ridicules my brother, and I immediately think of something that will stop him wanting me to come.

'I could go with you and your friends.'

It works.

'Um, maybe not. Maybe your friends are too young, so you're too young ...'

I leave the room and go up to my bedroom to read a book. I go on the computer and I've received several messages from friends, so I send one to Alnathia.

_Hey, do you want to come down to the park?_

Less than half a minute later I get a reply.

_Yes please, family are being annoying._

So I sneak out of the house and meet her down at the swings that we spent ages laughing at President Snow on. They face a long street of tall, terraced buildings with statues and patterns on them. Probably some government headquarters. In the dark night, the only light is that of a flickering red street lamp.

'Are you going to watch the Games?' she asks as we sit, swinging feebly.

'My brother asked me if I was going earlier. He asked if I was going with any of you guys.'

'I was wondering if you'd like to go,' says Alnathia.

'We could. Don't you think it'd be a bit ...'

'I know, that was my worry,' she agrees. 'But if just the two of us went, we could leave if it was too bad.'

'Wouldn't you feel bad?'

'The tributes probably don't want us watching their gruesome deaths.'

I hadn't thought of that approach.

Then all of a sudden, we hear voices approaching us. Male voices. We both shoot a terrified look at each other. 'Hide!' hisses Alnathia, and we both get off the swings and out of the park to hide behind a post box. It's getting dark and we've been taught all about random strangers in parks when you're on your own.

'The girl from 12. What's she doing here? How is she doing in training?' says the first voice. It's very deep and sounds very important – maybe he's staying in the tall government terrace next to us.

'She's doing well. Better in archery than anything else, I hear,' says another voice. So this person has access to the tributes in training.

'She seems the rebellious type.'

'Perhaps she is. I haven't heard of any problems.'

'Seneca, perhaps I haven't been clear enough. I want you to keep as close an eye as possible on that girl!'

My heart gives a jolt. Seneca is the first name of the head Gamemaker – his full name is Seneca Crane. I look over to Alnathia, trying to say with my facial expression, _let's go now_. But she doesn't catch on.

'But President -!'

Alnathia gasps. I clap my hand over my mouth as silently as possible. We're eavesdropping on _President Snow_. This is the man who can send twenty three teenagers to their deaths without batting an eyelid. I make frantic gestures to Alnathia with my eyes, but she doesn't notice.

'Seneca, you must be curious as to why I have chosen to speak to you in a playground in the middle of Thathyst, not in my own private gardens at home. After all, the districts don't even know this place exists – they only know of Lupanity, it's the only part they see. Would you like to know?'

'Yes,' says Seneca, although he doesn't sound desperate to find out.

'Because there is more of a chance of being overheard,' he says. I nearly have a heart attack. So is it a good thing that we can overhear him, because that's what he wants? But why does he want it? Or is it a bad thing, because he could be using it to kill more people? Or he's tricking us? Or he knows we're here? 'In the arena this year I would like plenty of nutrition, everywhere, for the tributes. Growing in the plants. Whole hedges of ... berries.'

'Berries?'

'Yes. Perfectly innocent, _berries_. We shall go in now, and if anyone has overheard us, they can take back what they know as gossip and they can share it for everyone to know.'

Snow and Crane leave the playground and we stay hidden. Seneca looks troubled. I look at Alnathia.

'I think we need to find out what he means by berries,' says Alnathia.

'It's some sort of code,' I say. 'Because one thing's for certain – he doesn't want nutrition for the tributes.'


End file.
